"A wife misses the husband he used to be". With these words, Rabbanit Naama Perl describes one of the painful challenges of living alongside someone coping with psychological trauma. Her husband is at home and continues to work and teach, but there are moments when he cannot listen, talk or be present as he once was.
In a personal conversation with Dr. Hana Katan on Arutz Sheva, she discusses the invisible injury her husband, Rabbi Menachem Perl, sustained through his work at Camp Shura following the October 7 attack, and the family's ongoing struggle even when life appears normal from the outside.
It all began in the days after the attack. Rabbi Menachem found it difficult to stay home in the face of the catastrophe. He told his wife, "I have to do something, I have to help, I can't just sit at home like this". When he learned that workers were needed at Camp Shura, he reported there and began helping with the difficult task. Initially, Naama says, the team shared a strong sense of purpose. On Shabbat, they ate together, sang and supported one another. But as the months passed, daily exposure to the distressing scenes began to take its toll.
At home, he said very little about what he had seen. Naama heard only fragments and did not understand how deep the injury was. After several months, he left Shura and returned to his routine, but something had changed. She explains, "When we call it an invisible injury, it isn't just invisible to others; it's also invisible to the person himself, and to his immediate family". She says family members noticed his difficulties, but only later were they able to connect them to what he had experienced at the camp.
To illustrate the injury, she describes someone who spends hours sitting by the sea, watching the waves, then goes to sleep with images of the shore still in mind. Her husband, by contrast, went to sleep each night after handling bodies and human remains, repeatedly exposed to immense sorrow. She says, "So much sorrow, and some of them he knew". She describes the strength he now needs to get up, work and carry on with his life as everyday heroism.
But family members also pay a price. Naama says that before Yom Kippur, she herself experienced a day of profound despair. Having always thought of herself as a happy woman, she found herself with no desire to get up or do anything. She describes it as, "A place where you cannot see God's light". Yom Kippur helped her emerge from that feeling, and the experience led her to decide that she needed to actively nurture her own strength as well.
She began setting aside time to meet friends, attend workshops and do things that bring her joy. Among other things, she began learning to play the piano, a dream she had planned to put off until retirement. Later, she joined a trip abroad organized by the nonprofit Ima Levaya, which supports mothers of people with physical and psychological injuries. At first, she did not want to leave home, but after her crisis, she realized how much she needed a break. She says meeting women facing similar circumstances renewed her strength to cope.
Meanwhile, Rabbi Menachem continues his work at the Tzomet Institute, teaches classes and leads prayer services in Mevo Horon. Naama says he sometimes finds it difficult even to leave home to teach a class. She encourages him and offers to accompany him, and once he arrives and begins teaching, the learning and participants' questions give him renewed strength.
Some of the most difficult challenges arise in small moments at home. In the past, Naama would consult her husband on almost every issue, including matters involving their children. Now, there are times when he says he cannot listen or discuss an issue. She says, "I try not to let myself feel hurt". She adds, "At that moment, I tell myself: He is injured". Sometimes, 20 minutes or half an hour later, he comes back and apologizes.
She says, "We must always remember that it comes in waves. Sometimes it's up, and sometimes it's down". She says it is important to learn to recognize when a spouse is able to talk and be close, and at other times to allow him to rest and cope. She emphasizes that a psychological injury is an injury in every sense, even if society struggles to see it, and that a wife also needs a listening ear and a place where she can share her pain.
Toward the end of the conversation, Naama suggests that women write down the things that bring them joy alongside those that weigh on them, and set aside regular time for activities that give them strength. She herself decided to see her grandchildren more often, even though they live far away. She also urges women to recognize the small efforts made by an injured spouse: Sometimes simply getting out of bed or trying to have a conversation requires enormous strength.
One decision she made was to renovate the bedroom she shares with her husband, fulfilling a long-held dream during this difficult period. The work was hard, but for her, it also held the promise of renewal. She says, "It's like throwing a rope down to him and telling him, and pulling him up and telling him: Come into the light, come, come back to life". She says the renovated room now brings more life and joy to their home.